


Change My Mind

by pandainpanties



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Rating May Change, Suicide, timepowers!Warren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandainpanties/pseuds/pandainpanties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warren has time powers and Nathan has some issues. </p><p>Maybe it's about time they help each other.</p><p>----</p><p>(discontinued: check authors note)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***9/24/17 UPDATE***
> 
> I get quite a few emails for this fic getting kudos and the occasional comment. I highly appreciate this, from the casual 'this is so good!' to the criticising comments, I genuinely love them all. I think it's my most popular/engrossing fic I've posted lol. 
> 
> I regret to inform you it's probable I'll never update this fic. For a good reason. At the beginning of this year, I considered continuing this but as I've been growing and learning as a person, I've come to realise the mistakes I've made. I don't condone using suicide/mental illness as a plot device and to make it worse, I passed over it so quickly. Not on purpose, of course, but the pacing of this work is too fast for the grave subjects I've implemented. 
> 
> I hope this fic has and will never paradigm real life BPD and suicide and how to handle it. Seriously. I probably don't have to say this but I have to make sure. For anybody who thinks it's a 'no, duh', remember there're people out there who take it painfully lightly. I'm not gonna go on the 'get help' drawl that's increasingly popular (for. a. reason.) but keep this in mind. 
> 
> If you're fine with knowing I'll never come back to this fic, proceed with reading. It was fun while it lasted, I enjoyed gramscott and LiS, but this isn't something I find myself putting endless energy into to fixing. I'm keeping this fic up so people can see I've grown and know how to acknowledge my wrongdoings. 
> 
> tl;dr Don't use suicide/mental illness/rape as plot devices it's not cool. also im not updating this fic anymore 
> 
> Thanks for understanding.   
> \-------------------------------------  
> Hello, hello! I'm super tired and nervous about posting this, so I will be very quick. 
> 
> Future apologies for the lack of Rachel Amber seriousness. There will be mentions, and they will be on the case but later in the fic. For now, it kinda focuses more on Nathan and Warren actually working to stand each other (which doesn't take long). 
> 
> Some traits of my Nathan are inspired by Marbles on Glass and Exposure (both grahamscott and gOOD SHIT!!) 
> 
> And yes, there are some changes because I wanted to be a tad more original. This means a different vision and different dates (for plot reasons). 
> 
> Fic inspired by Life is Swapped by Sarcastic_Raspberry (who is super adorable thank u). 
> 
> Special thanks to my [beta.](http://ikonnx.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Enjoy! (*´∀`*)

_A storm is coming._

Dark eyes snap open and immediately wince from the sharp pinpoints of wetness that assault his eyelids. Limbs are too heavy to move like he’s made of weights. His back arches as he lifts himself up forcefully, a reluctant toy in a crane machine. Everything hurts - or does it? There’s too much going on around him, trees shaking violently, stripped of their vestigial leaves as the clouds produce winds strong enough to knock him back down. He can’t fully register his bodily pain, the aching in his muscles, as he stands up fully and notices the condition of the world around him.

The lighthouse should be the first thing he notices, standing tall and proud in the corner of his eye, but it isn’t. The angry swirling of the clouds above him, wind vicious as it catapults cold, harsh rain onto his face is the first thing he notices. Monstrous, angry waves pushing and crashing too high on the shoreline.

He stands hopeless on the edge of the cliff as one of the waves builds the closer it gets the shore, to the civilisation just a few feet beyond it. His hand twitches as he watches it with an ever-growing sense of dread, a spark of fascination, as it crashes down on the small town, sweeping - and destroying - the buildings and cars and probably people along with it. It’s the last second before he realises that he, too, is being draped in shadow, and he holds his hand up in defensive as a wave tall as the lighthouse drowns him in darkness.

* * *

 

Warren inhales sharply as his head lifts from his folded arms, looking around the room dazedly before sitting up and stretching, arms forward and fingers curling like a cat.

_Crazy fucking dream_ , Warren thinks as the bell rings, shrill against the background noise. _Like from a video game or something._

Mrs Grant is writing on the whiteboard as the rest of the students start shoving their belongings into their bags, Warren following suit. He’s ready to leave in a hurry, not unlike the other students bouncing their legs impatiently on the bars under their stools. Warren usually pays full attention in class, as the straight A, skipped-a-few-grades, goody goody he is. Even on days he really didn’t feel like participating, he saves the daydreams for when he’s in his dorm room. He lazily picks at a loose hangnail on his thumb in thought as Mrs Grant starts picking on students to answer the questions she’s written. There’s always three questions on the board, all with fill-in-the-blank lines. She holds back the class until they’re all answered. The faster they can answer, the faster they can leave.

As Mrs Grant calls on the second person, Warren zones out, fingers still picking at the hangnail. Warren doesn’t find satisfaction from over-analyzing things, especially meaningless dreams in the middle of class, but something about a giant tsunami swallowing Arcadia Bay whole peaks his concerned interest. He can still faintly feel his wet clothes sticking to him like another layer of skin, clinging like saran wrap. Hair plastered to his forehead and tickling his eyelashes. The rain was cold and fell hard, small pins and needles on his arms as his limbs felt like weighted sandbags. He could practically taste the salt of the ocean on his tongue as the air was thick with the smell of it.

“Mister Graham!”

Warren startles, seat wobbling dangerously as he’s snapped out of his dream recollection. All eyes are on him as the class looks anxious, even irritated that he’s taking so long to answer the final question. Mrs Grant is looking at him expectantly.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “What was the question again?”

“I suggest you pay more attention, Mister Graham, unless you want your classmates mad at you.”

Warren inwardly cringes. Being the biggest nerd in school was tough enough, especially with the popular wannabe hipsters roaming the halls practically begging him to give them another reason to demean him, to grasp at his leftover worth and crush it between their immaculate fingers. The last thing he needed was his fellow chemistry geeks hating him too.

“Now, Warren,” Mrs Grant starts. “Which of these is a weak acid from today’s lesson?”

_Crap_ . Of course, it’s the only question he can’t answer because he had been dreaming. It’s not like he _wished_ for the dream, it just appeared unwillingly into his subconscious.

“Uh… HI?”

The class groans. Warren moves his shoulders uncomfortably. He’s not used to getting questions wrong.

“Please pay more attention next time, Warren. Brooke, how about you take this one.”

“HF,” comes Brookes nasally answer. Even _Brooke_ got it right, and she doesn’t even like Chemistry!

“Thank you, Brooke.” Mrs Grant writes the answer on the blank line she drew on the whiteboard. “Okay, class, I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your free time.”

There’s a collective release of tension as all the students disperse from the class. Warren feels like a poser. He knows deep inside he isn’t, but it isn’t in his nature to get things wrong. He’s almost mad about it. It was one question throughout the whole semester, he reassures himself, or tries to.

Mrs Grant calls out his name as he stands up and he dreads what she could possibly have to say to him. She’s shuffling papers around her desk as Warren approaches.

“Warren, as we both know, you are an excellent student in my class. Your investment in chemistry is something I wish all students could have for at least one class. However, your recent quiz did not turn out so good.”

Warren panics. It must be evident on his face as Mrs Grant chuckles kindly.

“No, you didn’t fail. But you did go from straight A’s to a B-plus. I’d like to see you work your way back up. I understand class can be stressful at times.”

Warren shakes his head. He’s not stressed. At least, he doesn’t think he is. The past few lessons have been harder for him to grasp is all and it’s his own fault for stupidly discarding homework to watch a live stream of E-Sports all night long. Of course, he wouldn’t tell Mrs Grant that.

“No, I’m not stressed. I just, you know. The last lesson was a bit hard on me, I guess.” Warren picks at his fingernails again before adjusting his backpack strap on his shoulder. He’s really got to find himself a pair of clippers. “I know we don’t have homework tonight, but is it okay if I do something for extra credit to boost my grade back up?”

He silently prays she’ll agree. No way he’ll be stress-free if his parents see his grade dropping.

“Of course, Warren. I think page 85 is a great resource for you to practice for class.”

Warren nods, maybe more excitedly than he should. He wouldn’t openly offer extra work in any other class besides this one. There’s a hopeful grin on his face as he turns to leave.

“Thanks, Mrs Grant.”

“No need, Warren. Good luck.”

* * *

 

Warren is thankful for the quietness that lingers in the dorms. Or he _was_.

Yelling can be heard faintly as he opens the door, getting louder as he turns left towards his room. It’s coming from the door across from his, loud and frantic. What the Prescott is saying is intelligible, but Warren can’t find it in himself to care enough to listen. He’s just so used to hearing it, would be his excuse. As is the rest of the boy’s dorm, and they all  block it out as if it were nothing but morning bird songs (though less peaceful).

Nathan’s yelling sounds different today. Warren never pays attention to what he says, not on purpose, but the tone doesn’t fail to get his attention, unfortunately. His cries always sound angry, like he’s pissed off at somebody, himself maybe, and the only way to calm himself is to stomp around his room, screaming into his phone. Warren isn’t sure how somebody can hold so much continuous rage. There’s a part of Warren that feels bad for Nathan’s phone when he yells into it and the objects he breaks when he throws things against the walls.

His rage has reached a new level - hysteria. He doesn’t sound as hostile as usual, more like he’s frightened, maybe in anguish. Through the thick, wooden doors, he can hear Nathan breathing too fast and his words choking on every other word, and Warren can hear his footsteps as he stomps back and forth in his room.  Warren almost - _almost_ \- feels a need to check up on him, see if he’s okay. But the slate that usually says “PRESCOTT'S RULE THIS TOWN” now says “LEAVE ME ALONE”, and Warren has absolutely _no_ problem with that demand.

And of course, interrupting an anxious, pissed off psycho doped up on drugs isn’t in his plans any time soon. What can he say? That guy’s an asshole. He isn’t interfering with that mess.

Warren opens the door to his room and shuts the door firmly. The yelling is muted but only slightly.

_Hell yes_ , Warren thinks as he drops his bag down, _finally back in my lair_.

Deep down he knows he should start right on his extra credit while half of the chemistry lesson is fresh in his mind. His fingers itch for it, to hop on the studying like it’s his absolute calling to life. However, his brain is saying _homework_ but his heart is saying _Ajin_.

The heart wants what it wants. Warren smirks and shrugs at his thoughts, unbeknownst to himself.

Warren plops down on his bed, groaning at the impact with his phone in hand ready to text the girl of his dreams, Max Caulfield. His flash drive has the digital textbooks for all his classes, and he sure as hell won’t be getting any work done without it. He can’t be all that bothered by it though, as it’s an excuse to see Max again.

**You [4:21 PM 11/17]**

Hi Mx, can you get my flash drive? I need some info. And space.

She doesn’t answer back for the first few minutes, much to his displeasure, so Warren sets his phone to vibrate and sets it down beside him as he opens Ajin where his page was dog-eared. He remembers Max saying how she loves dog-earing pages, it’s like adding history and personality to a book. Proof you read it, visibility to memories forever creased on a page. Warren didn’t understand (still doesn’t) but anything Max likes, he’s willing to do. He’s a dog who wears his leash proudly.

It’s around five minutes later and he’s been sucked into the manga, so much so that if his phone vibrated he wouldn’t register it. He feels anxious but that’s probably because Nathan’s yelling can still be heard across the hallway. Warren is worried yet irritated. He wants to leave his bed and bang on the Prescott door and tell him to pipe the fuck down. His _‘episodes’_ , as they’ve been cleverly named by the other boys in the dorm, only last around ten, sometimes fifteen minutes. The worst one was in October and he wouldn’t stop screaming and throwing things for a solid forty-five minutes. He remembers Nathan opening his door to leave and his room was completely trashed, pictures crooked or knocked off the walls and his desk was toppled over. Hayden tried to ask about it and got cold-cocked in the stomach. There’s now a silent agreement to never mention it again (as per Hayden’s request).

Warren sighs and puts down the manga, perching on his bed like he’s about to get up. It’s not like he _plans_ on going over there but his body made it seem like he was. He inwardly squirms on his bed, like he’s trying to make a decision. Which is dumb, because he absolutely will _not_ knock on the Prescott door.

His phone buzzes beside him. It’s Max. _To the rescue yet again._

**Mad Maxxx [4:36 PM 11/17]**

Srry. Running late.

He grins to himself, oblivious to his actions.

**You [4:36 PM 11/17]**

Ill meet you in the lot. Looking cool. You’ll see.

Max texts back but Warren doesn’t read it. A loud noise has caught his attention. It sounds nothing like a phone being smashed against a wall or a desk falling over.

It’s a gunshot.

_What the fuck?_

It came from across the hall. There’s no more yelling.

_Thud._

_What the fuck! No!_

Warren shoots up from his bed and reaches his hand towards the door. He flings it open and suddenly he’s _in a cold room, with too many people -  so many - and everybody is_ **_looking at him_** _._

“ _Mister Graham!_ ”

Warren yelps and succeeds in falling off his stool this time around. He crashes to the floor and a sharp pain radiates from his spine and the back of his skull. A beaker has been knocked off the front of the desk, shattering and spilling chemicals on somebody’s bag. He can hear their scoff of disbelief turning into anger.

“ _Ow_ \- Man, my head…”

He can hear Mrs Grant’s voice and the student’s echoing behind the ringing in his head but he isn’t listening. How the fuck did he get back here? He was in his room, back in the dorms. Reading and then texting Max. Nathan was yelling and _oh fuck!_ Nathan!

“Warren! Do you need to see the nurse?”

Warren’s attention is forcefully ejected towards the teacher and the angry student glaring daggers at him. He knows her as Savannah, dark brown hair and ebony eyes, which are looking in _his_ direction and looking positively _murderous_.

He cradles the back of his head as he slowly gets up and fixes the stool that toppled over with him. An apologetic look is sent towards Savannah. She doesn’t look like she’ll be accepting it anytime soon. And god, his back hurts. It must’ve cracked when he impacted the floor. He really fucked up.

“Warren?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you needed the nurse.” Mrs Grant looks frustrated yet concerned as she’s made her way to Savannah. The girl slowly pulls all her notes out, checking to see if they got wet. Mrs Grant starts apologising in his place and reassuring her the stains will come out. Warren doesn’t think they will.

“N-No, I’m fine.”

Mrs Grant doesn’t look fully convinced. Savannah looks like he wants him to burn in Hell. He might as well be, as red as his face is.

“Really. I’m fine.” His chuckle is nervous and so atrociously fake he knows everybody can tell, even the people who don’t know him. The more he stares at the situation in front of him, the shittier he feels.

“I don’t want what made you all kooky like that, Warren, but please pay attention.”

It takes every ounce of his willpower not to laugh at the word _kooky_. But something in the back of his brain is itching and he instinctively looks at the clock. Reality floods his brain and kooky is no longer funny. At least, for now.

_Okay. Maybe if I…. Hypothetically, let’s say I… Turned back time. Maybe…?_

Warren inhales deeply. Mrs Grant is talking to him and for the sake of his own embarrassment, he hopes this works.

_Yeah, okay, genius plan, but how did I do it?_

In his room, he had reached his door and flung it open. Maybe if he acts like he’s grabbing a door…

Warren holds his hand out and sure as shit, it works.

_This is so fucking insane! And cool!_

Mrs Grant quickly walks backwards from her place near the student as the liquid on her bag seems to dissolve and pour itself back into the beaker, asserting itself on the edge of the desk like it was never touched. Savannah turns back around, unbothered and less murder-y.

“Mister Graham!”

Warren is fully alert this time, thankfully. If he gets this done fast enough he can do something about Nathan… Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. A problem he doesn’t want to fix but seems to be the only one eligible to do so.

“Yeah?”

“Pay a little more attention, Warren. Which of these-”

“HF.”

Mrs Grant pauses, obviously taken aback by the swiftness of Warren’s answer. Despite the situation, he can’t help but feel his ego inflate, redemption for his own setback.

“I’m glad you’re so excited to answer, Warren.” Mrs Grant gives him a teasing smile as she writes the answer. She clicks the top back onto the marker for the board. “Class is dismissed.”

Warren is sure he hasn’t bolted out of his seat so fast before. A new record.

One foot is already in the hallway, other caught in mid-step as Mrs Grant calls his name.

_Dammit._

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Clearly, she’s amused by Warren’s urgency.

_Oh, y’know, stopping the local psycho from killing himself in his room._

“Uh, I have a uh…. A thing.” He winces. _Nice going,_ **_moron_** _._

“A thing?” Mrs Grant’s eyebrows quirk. “Uh huh. I’ll let you get to your thing after I talk to you about your grade.”

He’s screaming on the inside. He tries to be upset at Mrs Grant for stopping him but he can’t. He loves her and her class too much.  Though irony not included, he doesn’t have time to be stalling. A part of his brain explodes in celebration. Now he can constantly make time travel jokes to himself.

“I know Mrs Grant, I’ve been keeping track.” _So, how can I make this go faster?_ “I uh, I saw the activity on page 85… Do you think maybe I could do that for extra credit?”

Mrs Grant smiles wider. “You are well on your way, Warren. On top of it as always. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, you too.”

_All right, now that that’s out of the way._

He wants to run down the hallways but he knows if he does that, he’ll get stopped by the principal or the new asshole security officer. Knowing his luck, he’ll bump into a student, either piss them off or scatter their belongings across the floor. And knowing what he’s like, he’ll feel obliged to apologise too much and help them pick everything up.

As soon as Warren opens the door, he sprints. It’s painfully obvious he never does any physical activity as he runs out of breath within the first minute of doing so. By the time he reaches the steps to the dorm, he’s coughing and feels as if death has a grip on his lungs. He surges forward, ready to swing the doors open when two, large men step out in front of him, one of them juggling a football back and forth in his hands.

_Oh, great._

“Hey, hey. What’s the rush, Gayram?”

It takes everything in him not to make a face at the nickname. He’d just get punched for it.

“Nothing, Logan, I’m just-” The impatience in his tone makes him wince because he knows guys like Logan and Zachary get off to antagonising nerds like him. “I’m kinda in a hurry right now.”

“I can see that, Gayram. You mind tellin’ us where to?”

_Like you guys care._ “Sorry, I just.” _Excuse, excuse, excuse._ “I really, really need to piss you guys,” Warren murmurs.

“Uh huh.” The football hasn’t stopped moving. Warren thinks this guy should be thrown in a circus. Probably the only place accepting that low of an IQ. “I don’t care about your stupid, nerdy reasons. Get the fuck out of my way, fag.”

Logan pushes past him, obnoxiously knocking his shoulder against Warren’s. He rolls his eyes. What are they, _twelve?_

Whatever. Warren has to save another asshole right now. _Speaking of…_

The dorms are quiet again aside from Nathan’s distressed yelling. Warren pads over and stands idly in front of Nathan’s door, body bouncing to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He reaches for the handle - no. It’s too soon. He shakes his head. Nathan may not even have the gun out. If he does, he might freak and point it at Warren. Then he’d really be shit out of luck.

Warren simply stands at the door, bouncing from foot to foot, lightly tapping his fingers against the side of his jeans. Now that’s he’s so close to the yelling, he can’t help but listen.

_“I don’t fucking give a shit! I’ll do it right now! You wanted to get rid of me, you’ll fucking get it!_ ”

His hand hovers over the knob. He’s not sure whether to turn it until he hears the unforgettable click of the safety coming off. There was no way for him to hear something like that from his room.

Warren tugs on the knob, but it won’t budge.

_Are you kidding me!_

The crack of the gun is deafening and makes him flinch. There’s a thud and Warren looks to the fire hydrant next to Nathan’s slate. In the back of his mind, he’s questioning why it was placed here and not near the entrance to the door.

Rewind.

“ _I’ll do it right now!_ ”

Warren slams the fire hydrant down onto the knob. He does it again. And again. The knob is unhinged but the door is opening from the other side. He forces the door open, holding his hand out to push Nathan back and to rewind time. His fingers brush against the rough material of Nathan’s red varsity jacket before Nathan is centred in his room again, angrily pacing and waving his gun occupied arm about as he yells into the phone.

Warren puts his hand down. He’s not prepared for this, doesn’t think he ever would be, but it’s too late now.

_“I don’t fucking give a shit!”_

Nathan’s oblivious to Warren standing in his room, door locked. Warren should have thought how to handle this because he doesn’t know what to do other than let instinct kick in. Nathan’s hand is rising to eye level and Warren lunges at Nathan. He grabs the hand holding the gun and knocks the phone from Nathan’s hand with the other. Nathan screams in confusion and outrage, voice shrill and piercing Warren’s ears. Warren grabs the back of his jacket and forcefully shoves him to the ground. Nathan grunts at the impact and squirms violently. Warren sits on his lower back and leans all his weight on him to keep him pinned.

In hindsight, Warren doesn’t weigh that much. He quickly finds this out as Nathan rolls, Warren grunting as his body thuds against the floor. His grip holds tight on the gun. Nathan’s own grip loosens as he sinks his weight onto Warren. He’s heavy on Warren’s abdomen.

Warren snatches the gun from his loose fingers. He hurls it across the room. The firearm clanks loudly against the wooden door. His victory is short lived as Nathan’s sweaty fist connects to his right eye. Half his face pulsates with stabbing pain, skull throbbing.

Nathan cocks his arm back. It flies at Warren’s face, connecting to his eye. His skull resonates with pain. There’s a faint ringing. Nathan’s arm cocks back again. Warren’s hand shoots out, clutching at Nathan’s wrist. Nathan’s arm shakes from anxious muscles. Nathan violently yanks his arm. Warren’s fingers remain clasped tightly around his wrist.

“ _Get off of me, you fucking freak!_ ”

Warren almost hurls. **_I’m_** _the freak?_

The comment spikes rage, his indignation for this rich prick boiling and erupting in his chest. He outright headbutts Nathan, and they both recoil at the impact. Warren quickly shoves him off, holding a hand to his eyes and getting as far as he can from Nathan.

_“Get out of my fucking room!”_

_No fucking problem_ , Warren wants to scream, to snarl, to bite back at him. Warren looks back to see Nathan holding his head, fresh tears spilling from his narrowed eyes. His scream is borderline animalistic, so high that every word cracks. His voice isn’t the only thing that’s broken.

He watches Nathan stare at him, summoning his most intense glare but it fails to affect Warren. When he realises this, he turns his back to Warren, curling in on himself as he presses the heels of his bloody palms to his eyes. Warren turns and reaches for the door. _On second thought._

Warren spins around to find the gun, picking it up. Warren hates that he’s now probably top five on Nathan’s shit list, which is where nobody deserves to be. He’s sure if looks could kill, he’d be dead instead of Nathan. Which he thinks, selfishly, as his head is fucking pounding, maybe that would have been the way to go.

He goes to open the door and discovers it’s still locked. Fuck. He quickly turns the lock and opens the door, making his way to his own room. There’s hesitation before Nathan can be heard shuffling in the background. The door behind him slams so hard, he jumps out of his skin.

There’re goosebumps crawling on him and he’s amazed at the resentment that’s been directed at him, the outrage he’s produced as a counter attack. He feels drained and shitty. It occurs to him that physically assaulting the man who just tried to kill himself wasn’t the brightest thing to do.

_He started it_ , says the illogical, five-year-old part of his brain. If he’s honest, he agrees with it.

In his room, he softly closes his door. He thinks about slamming it too, showing Nathan just how pissed off he is too, but if he’s honest with himself he doesn’t have the energy. Nor does he intend to piss off the Prescott more, if possible. Just because Nathan is an asshole, doesn’t mean he should be one back.

_Or should he?_

Warren pulls his phone out of his pocket as he tiredly leans against the door. The handle of the gun is still warm where Nathan must have been gripping it. It makes him uncomfortable.

**You [4:40 PM 11/17]**

Hey Max, flash drive? Need it soon. Insane day.

He doesn’t wait for a response.

**You [4:40 PM 11/17]**

Meet me in the lot. By my cool new (old) ride.

The phone make a soft _plop!_ as it hits his bed. He holds up the gun to inspect it’s size, wondering what super secret spot he could stash it in if Nathan comes barging into his room for it. Under the bed or pillows seem too obvious. So does his closet. Hmm…

Warren struts over to his computer tower on the floor under his desk. There’s plenty of customizable space in the back. He lightly pops open the back, put it in there at an angle - _perfect_.

He stands and immediately opens his drawer for his first aid. He finds the pain relievers and takes two. After hesitation, he takes one more. They’re just generic Advil, but his swelling face is _not_ something he wants to be feeling for the rest of the night.

Muffled vibrations stem from his bed as he picks up the device and sees Max’s reply.

**Mad Maxxx [4:43 PM 11/17]**

Srry running late. See u there.

* * *

 

When he reaches the parking lot, Max is leaning up against his car, something he wishes he could photograph but lacks a camera to. And the skills.

There’s a grin on his face as he approaches her. Max, what can he possibly say about her? Her presence drains any leftover emotions for Nathan, his head clears and simultaneously clogs when he’s around her. The way the freckles that litter her nose and cheeks contrast against her smile is the highlight of his day. Max’s arms are crossed and her own grin fades as she takes in his appearance, something he forgot to consider before leaving the dorm.

“Oh, Warren. What the hell happened to you?”

Her voice is soft and full of concern, and it excites him.

Warren trusts Max, wholly and completely, but something about the situation seems too serious and too soon to mention. He’ll keep it simple.

“I got knocked on my ass by that Prescott dick.” Her face changes to sympathy. “I shoved him off of me before he went completely apeshit.” He grins as he hopes his point of him not being a helpless loser gets across.

Max makes a sound of disgust. “Asshole,” she mutters. “I hope you didn’t get too high on his shit list.”

Warren shrugs, brushing off the subject as best he can. He won’t mention he’s probably number one, or a close second on said list. He rolls his shoulders as he leans back on the hood of his car next to Max.

“Speaking of ape, there’s a drive-in at Newberg having a 70’s Planet of the Apes marathon. Let’s ‘Go Ape!’” Warren hopes he comes off convincing and a tad playful. If all else fails with Max, he has Brooke, who he knows would say yes in half a heartbeat. Ah, Brooke, his ever reliable back-up.

“You’re in the wrong time, Warren,” Max smiles at she crosses her arms again. “But yes, that is totally what I need. I love those.... Ah…”

Warren quirks his eyebrows in concern. “Max?”

Max gestures to the entrance of the parking lot. Warren follows where her eyes are fixated.

Warren inwardly sighs. _I can’t catch a break today, can I?_

Nathan Prescott is halfway into the parking lot, strides long as he saunters right up into Warren’s face. The guy still looks furious as all hell, but less so as he did merely fifteen minutes ago.

“Warren Graham, right?” Nathan practically sneers his last name.

Shit. Now he’s identifiable by face and name. Fuck his life.

Warren hesitates, eyes shifting from Nathan to Max, back and forth, back and forth. “Uhh…”

“How the _fuck_ did you get in my room?”

Warren’s heart stops and simultaneously beats ten times harder. _Oh fuck, oh fuck._ He heard Warren unlock his door while inside his room. Oh, _fuck!_

He tries backing up but his legs press harder into his front bumper, cutting at the back of his legs painfully through his jeans. Nathan steps forward, if possible.

“My door was _locked_ \- how **_the fuck_ ** did you get in my _room?!”_

Max looks frantically between Nathan and Warren. Her gaze settles on Warren.

“Warren, what is he-” 

“Stay _out_ of this, bitch.” Nathan lightly pushes Max back by her shoulder, not bothering to look at her. The action doesn’t even cause her harm, but the _nerve_ of this prick to lay his filthy fucking hands on Max-

Warren headbutts him - _again_ . Inwardly, he’s cursing not to mess with the psycho kid. But he fucking started it, and fucking with Max is crossing a severe _line_ in his book.

Nathan doesn’t fail to be taken aback from it but it doesn’t affect him like before. His fist strikes out at Warren’s stomach and Warren doubles over, coughing as he can hear Max gasp to his left. He holds a hand out, like he’s trying to make peace with Nathan, telling to _stop_ , _time out_ , but the message doesn't go through as Nathan knees him in the stomach.

“Answer me, prick!”

Warren is about to answer Nathan, tell him he’ll explain, maybe, but a rusted and beat up truck pulls up as Max leaves his side. There’s a girl behind the wheel with short, choppy blue hair and wearing a leather jacket. Max flings open the door and climbs in beside her.

The girl slaps her hands on the steering wheel, looking at a doubled over Warren and Nathan towering over him, excited. Nathan doesn’t seem to care at the new company, leaning to grab fistfuls of Warren’s shirt in his hands.

“Fucking answer me!”

The next Warren sees is Max motioning for the girl to drive away, sending a last, worried glance at Nathan through the grimy windshield.

The second the truck is gone, Warren places his hands over Nathan’s, trying to uncurl the death grip he has on his shirt.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t have time for your shit! Fucking tell me now, asshole, or I’ll report you. My dad _owns_ this school and he owns _you_ , so fucking talk!”

Deep inside, Warren doesn’t give a shit. He’s not impressed by Nathan’s instant calling to his father, the ‘Daddy can fix everything’ deal. The fact Nathan uses this as his go-to excuse pisses him off.

“Get off me, dude!” Warren pulls at Nathan’s hands. “You probably just imagined it or something - with all your crazy meds or whatever.”

He know’s he fucked up as soon as the words slip from his mouth.

“Fuck you, Graham!” Nathan explodes. “You don’t get to tell me what I did or didn’t see! And for your fucking information, I haven’t even taken my meds today!” He shakes Warren violently and throws him to the ground.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, dude!” Warren nervously exclaims, fear swarming in his eyes.

Nathan shoots up, towering over Warren. The sun behind him darkens his face menacingly. He swings his legs forward, kicking into Warren’s side with every word.

“I’m not - fucking - crazy! You piece- of shit!” Warren coughs violently and cries out at the repeated impact.

“ _Please!_ ” _Cough_. “ _Please_ , dude, _please_ , fuck!” A strangled sob. “Okay, okay, _okay_.” Warren grabs at Nathan’s leg, curling in on himself.

“I’ll…” He can’t think of a quick enough way to tell Nathan he wants to talk about the truth in privacy. He avoided it of course but look what happened. Fuck, he could rewind this but Warren knows pain still stays with him when he does. His head still hurt after falling in class, if that proves anything.

“I’ll tell you... Seriously. I’ll tell you the truth - just.” He coughs and wraps his arms around his midsection, breathing heavily. “It’s serious shit. I can’t tell anybody. I didn’t - I can’t tell anybody but you just-” Warren keeps coughing and god it hurts so _fucking much_.

Warren shifts his eyes around the parking lot, people starting to flood the area as it becomes prime time to start club hopping. Most of them have stopped to look at the source of the commotion.

“In the dorms,” he adds as a second thought.

Nathan stares at him, eyes narrowed like he’s really looking at him, analysing him. Warren stares up at him, a small whimpering sound escaping from his lips. He licks his lips subconsciously and Nathan looks conflicted. His gaze settles on Warren, on the other onlooking students, and the entrance to the parking lot. Warren, students, entrance. Over and over. He shifts on his feet, back and forth. Finally, he runs a hand over his face, inhaling deeply.

Nathan looks down at Warren before nodding, eyes squinted in scrutiny.  

“Fine.” Nathan’s hands drop to his sides lazily, like he’s a ragdoll and can’t afford to lift his limbs properly. He turns and takes quick strides to the entrance of the parking lot. Warren scoffs in disbelief and annoyance. It takes him a minute to find the energy to get up.

He’s only on his hands and knees when he can hear Nathan angrily calling for him. Warren wants to stay where he is, sulking in pain in the parking lot, just to piss him off more. The thought of pissing Nathan off to where the guy has a heart attack is a mildly joyful thought. But then he feels bad about it - god knows why - and he staggers to his feet, following after that blond pain in the ass.

Warren sighs. _What an insane fucking day._


	2. Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start off by saying the reception on this has been rather amazing for as small as the grahamscott fandom is now. Thanks so much?? Unbelievable, I'm so happy. I hope this remains interesting. 
> 
> And oh, how would I love to make this fic longer. I planned it periodically but I'm wanting to write more. I feel like it's going too fast. 
> 
> Very emotional chapter ahead..
> 
> Enjoy!

Back in the dorms, there’s a realisation they never specified which room. They sure as hell can’t talk in the hallways, where the other boys could hear them even at a whisper. The doors may be dense but the walls aren’t.

“Why don’t we go in my room?” Warren suggests as Nathan automatically steers towards his own room. Nathan turns and gives him this _look_ and Warren immediately bites his tongue.  

As soon as Nathan fully opens the door, Warren’s chest tightens. It’s too fucking soon. He was only gone for what - ten minutes? Possibly less, maybe more. The day’s not even over and he already has freaky super powers, a swelling eye, and possibly bruised ribs. Today fucking sucked.

Warren watches how easily Nathan seems waltz in his room and at how _heavily_ he sinks into the edge of the bed. His eyes are still bloodshot to hell. The blue of his eyes would be more intense if his look wasn’t so glazed.

“Well?”

Warren is brought back to his senses with the word. Nathan sounds impatient and it irritates him. His fingers feather over his sides, wincing when he accidentally presses too hard.

“Yeah?” He stupidly replies. He wants to slap his hand to his face. Nathan is as equally unamused as he is.

“Okay…” Warren comes to the brilliant conclusion that he has no idea how to explain the situation. He has to, now, since he’s standing in Nathan’s dark and creepy as fuck room with Nathan’s eyes trained on him like a bloodhound. Now that he’s given in to Nathan beating on him, twice now.

“Okay,” he repeats. First and foremost. “I’m... not crazy. I swear it.”

Glad this is starting off so well.

Nathan stares at him blankly but his fingers curl tightly in the dark sheets on his bed. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to use the word crazy again so soon.

“I can rewind time.”

In the dead silence of the room, faintly, Warren swears he hears Nathan’s brain break. It’s like Nathan’s left over hope of humanity has crashed and burned, the cognitive wheels of his brain creaking and dislodging from their place. He has never seen anybody look so fucking done. It’s remarkable.

“Get out of my room,” Nathan hisses like venom.

“I’m serious!” Warren exclaims desperately, voice wobbling at the exertion put on his abdomen.” Look… Okay.” Warren sighs. “When I got out of class, I came to the dorms and you were yelling. I thought you'd stop eventually, y’know… Like usual.” He casts his eyes towards the floor. “But you didn't. Instead... you.. you shot yourself. And I _freaked_ and ended up rewinding time!”

Nathan makes a noise of disgust before angrily throwing his head back against the pillow and turning his body to lay down properly.

“I _said_ , get the fuck out of my room,” he says, voice showing he’s on the very thin border between calm and ready to snap the neck of whoever talks to him next.

Warren feels exasperated. This asshole demands an explanation from him, beats him for it, in front of Max and the hot punk chick she ran off with and he won’t take it. He drags the truth out of him, and even if it is entirely unbelievable, Warren wishes he’d just fucking _take it_ because he’s sick of dealing with this prick.

"I'm not kidding!” Warren starts, hands wildly gesturing in front of him. “ I heard you shoot yourself and I rewound time!"

Nathan props himself on his elbows, face impossibly tired yet pink with unexploited anger.

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Get the fuck out of my room with your sci-fi nerd bullshit. If you won't tell me what the fuck _actually_ happened, then I don't want to hear your stupid fuckin' voice!"

“But-”

Nathan sits up quickly, feet slamming against the floor as he shoots up from his bed.

“Get out of here before I _kill_ you! You’re fucking _dead_ , Graham!”

Warren lifts his hands in defensive as he bumps into Nathan’s door.

“Okay! I get it!” Warren turns and leaves Nathan’s room, closing the door behind him and sighing heavily before walking across the hall into his room.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s laying on his bed holding his phone above him, blankly staring at the screen as he goes over and processes the day’s events. He’s applied some cream to his eye and sides, short rode up on his chest.

Two minutes later he realises he never received his flash drive.

* * *

 

The angry pounding on his door wakes him up.

Warren didn’t mean to fall asleep. He was just so damn tired. After saving Nathan, confronting Nathan, dealing with Nathan. Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. What a draining person to talk to.

After Nathan threatened to kill him - which Warren thinks was a bluff but doesn’t want to test out-, he went to his room and continued reading Ajin. Or, he tried, as his thoughts easily drifted from the book in front of him and focused on the source of his powers. Regrettably, he realised Nathan was his catalyst. The thought lingered with bad taste. If it wasn’t for Nathan trying to… do what he tried to do, he wouldn’t have rewound in the first place.

Warren spent a solid hour lying frozen on his bed in deep thought, speculating where his powers came from and why. Why him? Why now? Why not some other time when it would have been useful? Not to say stopping the suicide of a student wasn't useful, but maybe something less dire…?

What about wormholes? Isn’t time travel supposed to work when you have an obvious stop and start point? Like a marker left in time. He would have had to create a wormhole back in Chemistry class for him to zap back that far. But no, he never created one, right? Do wormholes just randomly appear or does he create them? Even if he did, he feels like time travel should include him floating through a colourful, sci-fi tunnel. Maybe even in a police box. Maybe Max can be his sassy sidekick in time.  

He wondered how far back he could go. There was at most a thirty-minute gap between class ending and him leaving to meet Max in the lot. Obviously, he can go back by seconds but what about minutes? Is there a limit on minutes? What about hours? Days? _Years?_ Time travel is different from time reversal, he would think. Time travel is an umbrella term. He doesn't think he can hop back to whatever era he wanted. Sure, he could _travel_ back in time by _rewinding_ but that doesn’t fit ‘time travel’ to a T, now does it?

The whole process made his brain hurt no matter how enthused he was on the topic. He had fallen asleep with the manga over his eyes. The knocking brought him back to the present, where his clock said it was 7:19 in the evening.

“What? Who is it?” He called groggily to the angry knocks behind the door.

“You better get the fuck out here, Graham.”

Nathan? He doesn’t sound angry, Warren notes. If anything, he sounds… Neutral, at best. Even so, the voice spikes an overwhelming anxiety he’s never experienced before.

Warren hesitantly rolls out of bed, groaning in pain at his sides and putting the book back on his nightstand. He stretches his stiff limbs the best he can, arms popping painfully. When he opens the door, Nathan is standing  in the middle of the hallway, facing the double entrance doors. He gestures his head towards the exit and disappears behind the corner. Warren follows reluctantly.

When he exits the dorms, Nathan is stood staring at the sky. He’s about to ask what he wants, what he’s looking at the sky so damn intensely for when a single cold drop hits his nose.

_What the hell?_

Warren holds his palms out as hundreds, maybe even thousands, of snowflakes litter the area and rest on his palms. They melt as soon as the hit the grass and his skin and Warren is sure this is the most bizarre shit he’s ever seen. The sun is just setting and the air is humid but yet the snow leaves soft, cold tingles on his hand and Nathan’s cheeks.

Next to him, he barely registers Nathan sighing heavily. He turns his head to glance at the boy as damp snow continues landing in his palms.

“All right. Tell me about your time bullshit. Talk to me.”

* * *

 

The alarm clock wakes him up too early for his liking. He groans as his hand slams down on the clock, silencing the obnoxious buzzing. He runs a calloused hand over his face, hissing when he hits his swollen eye. He deeply before stretching, joints popping in satisfaction. His sides feel better, from taking pain relievers and smearing ointment on them. His skin is sticky, and he sits for a minute or two, simply sitting, not thinking, revelling in the cool darkness of his room.

With a heavy sigh, he gets up from his bed, his body already missing it’s warmth as he grabs his shower supplies and heads out the door.

Nathan had kept him up until midnight, drowning him in questions he couldn’t particularly answer, not without the proper research for it. He told Nathan this, multiple times, but the boy ceased to listen.

It wasn’t like he meant to stay up all night with Nathan. After he had found a reason to believe Warren, he calmed down about it and demanded Warren explain what the fuck was going on.

_“So, what, you just stick your fuckin’ hand out and it…?” Nathan makes a gesture with a hand that isn’t holding a loaded pizza slice. The curfew to leave the dorms already passed and they were both starving. Pizza was ultimately the best decision for a long night in._

_Warren shrugs. “Yeah, guess so. I’m not exactly sure what special movements I should be making. Usually it’s some cool telekinesis thing.”_

_Nathan nods like he understands. Warren wrinkles his nose as Nathan bends his head back and lowers the pizza into his mouth, ingredients tumbling down and sticking to gooey cheese. It’s not the action that disgusts him as much as what Nathan actually eats. Pineapple, black olives, red pepper, and onions, all piled on a large pizza. Luckily, Nathan ordered another one littered with plain pepperoni and mushrooms. He specified Victoria liked her pizza like that too and for Warren to not think he was special._

_“How far back can you go?” Warren looks up from the atrocious mess of a pizza between them and at Nathan. It suddenly strikes him that he’s sitting in Nathan Prescott’s room, eating fucking pizza and discussing time travel like it’s the weather. It’s been long enough to where Warren isn’t all that creeped out by the decor and Nathan hasn’t made a bitchy comment in at least ten minutes._

_He hasn’t apologised for the bruised ribs and black eye, though._

_“Actually, I’m not sure. It was around thirty minutes from class to here, I think. But I did it out of nowhere, like bam! And suddenly I’m in class again. It was crazy, man.”_

There’s nobody in the bathroom, thankfully, and Warren takes it upon himself to turn the water as hot as it’d go. Though immediately after scalding himself, and letting out a very manly yelp, he turns it cooler but hot enough so that steam still radiates off his skin. His shoulders roll as he lazily leans against the cool tile, hair plastered to his face and neck.

_“How much did you hear?”_

_The pizza is gone by now. Nathan polished his off completely and he somehow still looks hungry. Warren joked and asked if he ever ate but Nathan didn’t respond. His voice is too quiet to hear the first time. Warren makes an unsure sound._

_“I know you want to ask, to get all up in my fuckin’ business.” Despite the biting words, Nathan doesn’t sound that angry. Just… tired. “So how much?”_

_Nathan's wrong. Warren doesn't want to know, doesn't want to talk about it. Warren actively avoids somber confrontations and now he's unaware of how to properly respond to Nathan._ _He's not sure what he expected, to be honest. It was bound to happen, time reversal powers or not._

_Warren’s gaze shifts from Nathan to back at the ceiling, head positioned right under the projector. He kinda wishes it’d randomly come crashing down so he wouldn’t have to have this depressing conversation, but he sincerely doesn’t have a death wish so he retracts the thought instantly._

_“I dunno, man. I just…” He inhales softly, mentally preparing himself for the words about to slip from his mouth. “Something about somebody wanting you gone. I don’t know, that’s all I heard, I swear.” Warren presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You sounded so angry and sad, I didn’t-”_

_He sighs again and in the corner of his eyes, he can see Nathan turn his head to look at him from the bed. Warren inspects the ceiling with mild regard._

_“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I didn’t the first time, at least. Your problems aren't mine to deal with.” Something shuffles to his right and now he sees Nathan’s back. “When I rewound time, I ran back here but I wasn't sure what to do. I thought I could kick my way in here or something, like some kind of badass superhero, but I knew that wouldn’t work.” Warren turns on his side and a whimper escapes him. They’re back to back now. The floor hurts his shoulder but hurts his ribs more. “I stood outside your room and waited but your door was locked. I busted it and got in here and rewound again.”_

_“Is that why you were locked in here before?”_

_Warren nods but realises Nathan can’t see him. “Yeah.” He swallows and he’s not sure why there’s a lump in his throat. “You were so damn mad.”_

_Nathan snorts but it’s devoid of any humour. “Some nerd is in your room fucking your shit up but he has to unlock the door to get out. Raises a lot of questions, brah.”_

_Warren rolls partway, eyes straining and eyebrows quirked as he glances amusedly at Nathan’s back._

_“Brah?”_

_Nathan rolls back, too, elbows propping him up on the bed. “You got a problem with the way I talk, brah?”_

_Warren rolls back to rest on his side. “I never said such a thing.”_

_“I’ll fuckin’ pound you, brah.”_

_Warren snorts and lets out an unrestrained giggle despite the disgusted look on his face._

_“Watch how you word things, dude.”_

_Nathan huffs and Warren finds it progress. Progress of what, he doesn’t know, but he’s getting there (wherever there is)._

_Nathan’s lies back on his side again. His voice is soft and muffled._

_“I’ll do whatever I want.”_

_There’s a silent ‘brah’ hanging in the air between them. With their backs to each other, they both smile in shy amusement._

Warren tilts his head back before shampoo can get in his eyes. The sudden slamming open of the door scares him, and the air feels cold around his face with his hair slicked back with suds. His shoulders sag when he realises it’s only Trevor, who has a tendency to handle things violently when tired. The whole dorm wants to make fun of him for seeming so damn angry but they don’t blame him. Rarely do people enjoy mornings.

When the conditioner washes out and the bubbly soap finishes running off his body, he turns the water off, quickly drying and ruffling his hair with his towel. The towel sits snug around his waist as he picks up the pile that’s his pyjamas. Trevor gives him a tired ‘sup’ gesture with his head as Warren leaves the bathroom.

_“What about your dream?”_

_Warren sniffs as he pulls his hand away from the DVD rack. Nathan has some fucked up films in his room, just his style. He and Nathan should start their own chain store called Fucked Up Films. They could be like Netflix or BlockBuster, except with horror cult classics and under budget thrillers. He thinks this is a brilliant idea but he also thinks he may have gotten a second-hand buzz from the joint Nathan just finished smoking._

_“What dream?”_

_Nathan rolls his eyes as if in disbelief Warren can’t keep up with the abstract, mile a minute thoughts his mind seems to run on. His fingers dance quickly on his silken sheets, an anxious jig he can’t control._

_Nathan snorts. “Did somebody get high from a little second-hand smoke? The one you had in class, dumbass.”_

_Warren sways. “Yeah?” He turns to look at Nathan and suddenly he’s able to think more clearly. His eyebrows draw together in thought. “Yeah. It was…” Warren faces forward and rests his forehead on his palm. “It was crazy. I woke up near the lighthouse. The wind was super strong and the waves…”_

_Nathan hesitates before swallowing, throat dry. Breath shudders as he urges, “Yeah?”_

_“I dunno, man. I was looking down at the ocean, watching a wave come up and just swallow the town. It just_ **_took it_ ** _. And right after that, a wave took_ **_me_ ** _. And I woke up.”_

_His nails claw at the sheets desperately and he doesn’t realise how loud his breathing has become. Chest is too tight and suddenly he feels like he’s drowning in his red jacket._

_“You okay?”_

_Warren’s voice is that shimmer of light you see underwater when your hands reach for the sun and the soul relieving moment when you break the surface of water, gripping at that bright light that is so far out of your reach. He feels like he can finally breathe._

_Nathan coughs as his oxygen finally regulates. “Cool, bro.” He can feel Warren’s gaze on him and he dares look. He fucks up when he does because, for some fucking reason, Warren looks so damn concerned. Those dark eyes are filled with worry and it tugs at something that’s been long lost in Nathan’s chest. He immediately discards the thought, telling himself Warren doesn’t mean it, doesn’t mean to look like he cares._

_“It’s late,” he says, and immediately wants to smack himself for it. Way to be too fucking cliche._

_Warren pulls out his phone and curses, getting up and nearly falling, somehow. The glowing device in Warren’s hand grips at his interest. He reaches for it and starts looking for the Contacts icon. His background is of some cartoon chick with pink hair pulled into pigtails and a fairy dress. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and it hits him he just spent his whole night talking to the biggest nerd in the school. Way to fuckin’ go, Prescott._

_Nathan grips Warren’s wrist as he tries to retrieve the phone, Nathan’s shaky fingers typing away._

_“Relax, I’m just putting myself in here.” He waves the device in front of Warren’s face when he’s done with it. The way Warren snatches it back pisses him off but he thinks he just made a new friend and he doesn’t want to lose that just yet. Not if he can help it. “That way you can text me all about your time bullshit if you need to.” Or if you want to._ ****

_Warren stares at the phone but it doesn’t look like he registers what’s on it. He stuffs it in his jeans pocket. Nathan watches Warren leave his room, a half-assed wave aimed at him through the crack in the door. There’s a small click when Warren shuts it and Nathan stays still, breathing as silently as he can._

_As soon as the thud of Warren’s door closing is heard, Nathan rolls and slams his face into his pillow and screams._

A buzz sounds from his bed as he puts on a plain light blue, long sleeved shirt. He doesn’t care enough to check an outfit out so he grabs a random black shirt from his floor and puts it on. There’s a small box on his phone as he picks it up.

**rad fuccer [9:02 AM 11/18]**

Meet me @ 2whales

It takes Warren a second to remember Nathan taking his phone last night and putting his number in his contacts. Obviously, that meant he put his own name in there too. Warren’s too lazy to change it. Or to reply.

He grabs the keys to his 1978 beauty and leaves the dorm.

* * *

 

The drive to Two Whales is uneventful and Warren is more than thankful for his quiet morning. Now that he’s gotten himself tangled up with Nathan, he’s sure the other boy will be riding his ass about the whole ordeal until he’s gotten bored of it. Warren doesn’t exactly see that happening. His knuckles blanch as he grips the steering wheel in mental preparation of hanging with a mood swing addled Prescott. It loosens right after when he remembers how tame Nathan was last night.

The diner is buzzing at this hour and Warren isn’t sure if he’s disappointed the area isn’t more secluded or if he’s relieved in case he pisses off Nathan and he has backup. He tosses the thought aside as he sits in his regular booth, pads of his fingers scraping against the equation etched into the corner of the table. No longer after a waiter brings him some coffee, Nathan swaggers into the diner, eyes immediately scanning for Warren and honing in on him. Warren imagines Nathan’s a player in a game, his mind saying ‘enemy spotted’ before giggling into his cup of coffee.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Nathan demands as he slides into the seat across from Warren. _Oh no. He thinks I was laughing at him._ Warren isn’t sure how to explain and he knows saying ‘nothing’ won’t get past him.

Warren shrugs. “Just something funny I remembered from a game.” He continues sipping at the hot coffee, clenching his jaw at an attempt to not laugh as he tries to forget his own stupid joke. Nathan’s gaze on him lingers before looking at up the waiter who approaches and asks Nathan what he wants. The coffee makes his lips tingle.

“I'll have what's on his shirt with toast and eggs.”.

Simultaneously, all three of them glance at Warren’s shirt. It's an old shirt of his, which spells out ‘bacon’ with blocks from the periodic table.

The waitress giggles politely before turning her attention towards Warren.

“And what shall you have, hun?”

Warren smiles at the waitress. She’s pretty and young, with blonde hair that looks fake.“Waffles and eggs for me, please.”

The waitress smiles. The name on her tag says “Julie”, and Julie seems to be trying to hard to avoid staring at his black eye. She stalks away, hips swaying more than they should. They can hear her tell the orders to the chef over the noise of clanking pots and pans.

They don’t talk much while they eat. Warren subconsciously watches Nathan as he eats, which is creepy but interesting. Nathan splits everything on his plate in half before touching it. Bacon, toast, and eggs. All split in half. Warren just stuffs everything whole in his mouth.

Warren drowns his waffles in syrup where Nathan scrunches his nose at the bottle in distaste. Warren’s almost offended but doesn’t want to start anything, especially over something as trivial as syrup.

As he drowns the waffles, his mind crashes back into reality and thinks back to the daydream he had in Chemistry. The rain that was cold and wind sharp enough it chilled him down to his bones, waves crashing so uncharacteristically high against the hill of the lighthouse. Turning to see a large wave gather before crashing down onto Arcadia, cars and buildings being swept away like useless toys. He hasn’t had the dream again, in fact, he hasn’t had any dreams since that one invaded his subconscious. He’d give anything to revisit silly dreams where he turns into a literal hero, kicking bad guy ass and saving the princess, who of course, in his eyes is Max Caulfield.

While Warren slips into his daydream, Nathan finishes eating and looks at the wistful look on Warren’s face in disgust. He looks way too fucking happy. His gaze drifts to the dark purple surrounding his eye and feels of pang of emotion. A voice says he deserved it, for that shitty, unforgivable comment on his medications. Another part of him wants to apologise, to touch the bruises he caused. He automatically slaps that part of his brain.

It’s depressing, he knows, but as he stares at the grin that spreads on Warren’s face, he wishes he knew what it was like to enjoy one’s imagination. Watching Warren enjoy himself, teeth white against his muted tan skin and dark hair. Nathan knows where his thoughts are going and he can’t stop them. Warren is so opposite of him, so good and… healthy. He immediately wants it, and winces at the intense anger and jealousy that flares up inside of him.

“Mind if I pay?”

Nathan looks up at him, seemingly caught off guard as his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. His eyes open wide for a fraction of a second but that’s all it takes for Warren to take notice at how shockingly _blue_ they are. Warren is speechless, unable to tear his own dark eyes away from the light ones staring into his. He thinks, for one measly moment, Nathan could be pretty for a boy.

“What the fuck.”

 _Nevermind_.

Nathan’s eyes narrow as he drums his fingers on either side of his plate against the table.

"The fuck is this, a date? _Hell_ no, are you paying.”

A hoard of thoughts come crashing into Warren’s head at once. It’s enough to hold his stuttering reply as Nathan flips his hands up, palms facing Warren as his arms rest on the table. He shakes them like jazz hands.

“I’m the rich kid, _remember?_ ” Warren can sense the sarcasm dripping from that statement, but Nathan seems so genuinely displeased with that title that Warren curls in on himself.

Warren turns his attention back to his plate of food. He doesn't know why, but he’s not that hungry anymore. Maybe he’s full. He pushes the plate towards the centre of the table, an obnoxious clink against Nathan’s own plate. He immediately grabs for Warren’s leftovers and starts eating on the opposite side of the bite marks. Nathan reminds him of a vulture. An animal that fits him too well, he thinks.

Nathan polishes off Warren’s food, bitemarks included. He’s cleaning his fingers one by one with a napkin, displeased at no matter how hard he seems to scrub, the grease isn’t entirely gone.

“We’re going to my place after this.”

Warren lightly chokes on the rest of his coffee, hands flying to his abdomen. Nathan looks at him blankly as he lightly beats his chest.

“Why didn't you just eat at your place? I bet you have way better food there,” Warren questions genuinely. He’s sure Nathan has maids or at least some kind of fancy gourmet chef. If he had such a thing on demand, he’d kiss Two Whales goodbye.

"Oh yeah, and listen to my fucking dad shit talk to me about how much of a disappoint I am? Right,” Nathan bites, huffing a laugh laced with dark humour.

 _Regret_.

Warren wasn’t aware Nathan over shared so much, especially when it came to his own problems.

_“Do you wanna know?”_

_Warren’s smile drops at Nathan’s sudden serious tone. “Know what?”_

_There’s a pause. “Do you wanna know why I tried to kill myself.”_

_Warren stiffens._ Hell no, hell no, that is your business dude, I have no right to intrude on something as personal as that, what the fuck. _He struggles to find the right wording, the heavy silence between them growing more tense by the second._

_“If you want to share… It’s fine.” Warren reels in his thoughts. “I mean, I’m not asking you to, but, like, if you want-”_

_“I trust you.”_

_Warren swallows thickly. He’s not eligible to carry this burden that Nathan calls his life. Hell, he doesn’t think Nathan can bear it himself, either. Maybe that’s why he needs to let it out._

_He wants to say ‘oh yeah?’ or maybe ‘you do?’ but Nathan is letting himself be vulnerable and he would be the shittiest person to stomp on him after doing so._

_“Okay.” It’s not great, but it’s not silence._

_Lying on his side with his shoulders hunch, he suddenly feels suffocated. He rolls on his back, letting his chest expand fully with each breath._

_“I didn’t want pity for it. I don’t. My family...  They hate me. Everybody does. I don’t blame them either. I didn’t_ **_choose_ ** _to be diagnosed with all this shit. I’m so... fucked up, none of my shrinks can help me. And even the ones who can, my dad won’t fucking sign me to them. My medications don’t even fucking work. The only one here who listens to me is Victoria and… And even she is freaked out by me. She tries to hide it but I can see it in her eyes. When I get angry or start flipping my shit. She’s scared of me, I know it.” Nathan curls up, voice wobbling with threatened tears. “I don’t know why you’re here. I’m the freak of the town and you’re the smartest guy at this corrupt fuck of a school. You could be off doing homework or shit, advancing your future farther than anybody here will ever go.”_

_“Nathan-”_

_“No.” Nathan sniffles and grabs at the corner of his pillow. “I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry. I just wish people would fucking listen. People said ‘talk to me, just talk to me and I’ll understand.’ Nobody listened. Nobody understood. They didn’t try to. I reach out and get shut down. People use me. They think I’m some bomb ready to explode at any second. They think ‘nobody can love somebody as fucked up as you. Nobody will miss you when you’re gone.’ And they’re right. I believe them.”_

_Warren shuts his eyes. Lying on his back was a mistake. The world feels like it’s weighing on his chest, his body, and he rolls back on his side, chewing lightly at the nail of his thumb. Nathan sniffles again._

_“I believed them so I tried to… to get rid of myself. Thought it’d be better. One less thing taking up space.”_

_Almost on instinct, Warren wants to shoot ‘_ Even if you’re dead, you’ll take up space based on the laws of matter _’ but he won’t, he wouldn’t dare._

_Nathan is heard shuffling behind him and he can feel those intense, light eyes on his back._

_“Why did you stop me?”_

_He tosses himself on his back again. The invisible weight crushes his chest, but he knows Nathan’s needs to see his face when he answers. His fingers drum on his chest as he stares at Nathan across the room. Nathan’s gaze becomes too intimidating so he stares back up at his old friend the projector._

_He knows Nathan is waiting intently on his answer. Warren’s mouth opens in hesitation, ready to say words his brain has yet to process._

_Warren can’t lie and say he cares. He does care, if only a bit, now that he’s talked to Nathan, has sat and listened to whatever came to the brunet’s mind. He didn’t before, no. Before, Nathan was just the crazy douchebag that roamed the halls with a vengeance. Now, he was just a guy with problems his family wouldn’t bother to deal with. A lost case that nobody but himself_ _could solve._

_“I…” Warren presses his fingers against his aching side. It hurts to breathe. “I don’t believe somebody deserves that. I mean- yeah, you’re an asshole, but… You just need help, dude. You need serious help and I think… I think if you got it… I think you’d be better. Healthier.”_

_Warren licks his lips and caresses his side. It may seem random, but Nathan needs friends, too. Somebody to support him. “Friends are hard to make, dude, but I have a feeling you’ll find somebody who gets you. Who can understand. Or try to.”_

Nathan’s looking down in his lap, just previously having brought out his wallet.

“My mom will be there. She's _okay_ , I guess. It's my dad that pisses me the fuck off,” he murmurs. Warren nods like he understands. His own parents divorced recently but he holds no hatred for them like Nathan does.

Nathan slides a twenty over the check and stuffs his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks. He stands up and starts to leave, not bothering to motion for Warren to follow him.

When they exit the diner, Nathan wastes no time opening the door to his red SUV and situating himself on the leather seat. Warren is unlocking his own car when Nathan calls out to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Warren freezes. Should he be a smartass or…?

“I’m… Getting… In my car?” Warren raises an eyebrow in question.

Nathan’s brow furrows. “You’re going with _me_.”

“But… I don’t wanna leave it here,” Warren pouts.

“Fine,” Nathan barks “Drive yourself then, fucker,” he mutters, fingers swiftly dance on the steering wheel. He closes his door and busies himself digging for his keys. Warren rolls his eyes and looks at his car.

“I’ll see you later, my sweet. Be a good girl,” he croons and pats the hood affectionately.

When Warren unexpectedly climbs into the passenger's side, Nathan pauses before sending him a look.

“Did you say bye to your car?”

Warren returns the look with hs own confused one. “Yeah?”

Once again, Nathan stares at him, like he’s figuring something out or thinking too hard. His light eyes squint and he makes no effort to hide his intentions, gawking at Warren full on. He ends up shaking his head before revving the engine and pulling away from Two Whales.

_“What about you?”_

_Warren licks the blood off his thumb. The anxiety of this conversation has driven him to bite his nails. His thumb is simply a nub now._

_“What about me?”_

_Nathan hugs his pillow like it’s a person, which seems kinda sad but Warren has no room to judge as he still does it, too. He continues chewing at the skin on his thumb. The habit’s already broken, why not go all the way?_

_“Will you be my friend?”_

_Warren pauses. Normally, under different circumstances, he’d say yes without any hesitation. Friends meant funny text messages, nights out at the movies, and unnecessary gossip. Friends meant game nights, a shoulder to cry on, someone to have your back. Friends understood late messages and hidden intentions._

_It was different with Nathan. Everything was. Friends with Nathan meant getting to know him through all his complexity. It meant dealing with bouts of random anger and impossible emotions for illogical reasoning. It meant constant reassurance, mood swings from hell, and hearing secrets that aren’t meant for him._

_It hits him and he isn’t sure why it took so long to. He… Nathan must be lonely. Sure, he has the Vortex club but from what Warren has heard, they keep their distance from him. Victoria is the only one who actually talks to Nathan, who listens, and even so, Nathan said she’s scared of him. Warren doesn’t know how much Nathan has shared with Victoria about his life. Nathan’s only talked to him for a few hours and Warren still needs to digest it all._

_Not just that, but Nathan is the only person who knows about his powers. Not Brooke, Alyssa, Stella, or even Max, the girl most important to him, knows. Granted, Nathan literally beat it out of him, but the point was Nathan knew and actually went along with it. And, as hard as it is to believe, Warren has… enjoyed talking to Nathan._

_Nathan’s overshared his life story with Warren and even if it makes him uncomfortable, he knows he owes Nathan something back for it. If it’s as simple, as mind-boggling complex as the thought is, being friends with Nathan Prescott, his answer escapes his lips before he even thinks about it._

_“Yes.”_


	3. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! It's... It's me. 
> 
> Late update because I've been fandom hopping. I'm currently stuck on Rick and Morty but I've promised myself to not give this fic up. I'm too proud of it and I want to finish it. I've got big plans! A lot bigger than what I started out with. 
> 
> Delayed updates in the future; look out for them. Sorry if the in-character-ness of it all degrades in quality, I'm doin' my best to keep it up. 
> 
> I've kept you for too long. Enjoy!

The Prescott house isn’t as large and intimidating as he expected.

He had imagined a Gothic architecture-esque, sky-scraping mansion. _Young Frankenstein_ style. Built from the tallest mountains and torches near the entrance. Maybe even bats flying out of the upper windows, where the dark secrets of the Prescott’s were hidden.

Instead, it’s on the side of a large lake and only two stories tall. It was quite simplistic in style, something you’d probably see on a home makeover show.  It’s in the middle of nowhere, which he guessed correctly. It actually looks rather… peaceful.

Of course, the inside is fucking huge. Even with all the extraneous decor littered about. They enter the foyer and Warren immediately gets chills. It’s cold as fuck and he gets a feeling the AC isn’t the only reason for that.

Warren looks around but there isn’t much to see in the entrance. A spiral staircase stands proudly in front of them and a set of double doors directly to the right.  

“What what are we doing here?” Warren asks as Nathan leads him through the house. He seems to be looking for something.

“We’re going to test your rewind powers,” Nathan responds a bit boredly.

Warren scrunches his eyebrows in thought as he looks around the pristine house. It makes him feel awfully uncultivated. He sinks into himself as he feels like he’s dirtying the place just by breathing. He’s met with the need to see if he actually left dirty footprints behind him.

“No offense, but uh… There’s not really much to do here.”

Nathan casually leans against the entryway into the living room, staring blankly out the large windows that show off the backyard.

“Wanna break my dad’s shit?” Comes Nathan’s answer, voice laced with dark humour. Face is still blank as he stares out the window, eyes mesmerised by the sun.

Before Warren can respond, there’s a loud shriek and it sounds like it's coming from a child. Nathan seems unbothered. In fact, he smiles. The shriek is following by giggling and Nathan turns and exits the living room, walking through the kitchen and onto the patio. Warren follows curiously and is promptly thankful for the warm sun on his skin.

Nathan’s standing on the edge of the patio cement, a hand on his hip again and an unrestrained smile on his face. The sight alone is enough to make Warren want to shit bricks.

A small child comes barreling up to Nathan and wraps their small arms around Nathan’s legs.

“Nayden! Nayden!”

Warren wants to guess this child is a sibling of Nathan but from the stark black hair and equally dark eyes, his assumptions are quickly tossed away. He knows what Nathan’s parents look like from the portraits in the hallways and the Prescott’s aren’t nice enough to adopt.

“Wassup, Avery?” Nathan rests his hand on Avery’s head.

Avery keeps a hold on Nathan’s legs, looking at up the brunet with impossibly large eyes.

“Momma got me water balloons! You wanna play?”

“Heh- Uh, I mean,” Nathan stops himself before he can swear. “Yeah, of course I wanna play.”

“Yay!” Avery cheers, jumping in excitement.

“Lemme go get changed first, okay?” Nathan musses Avery’s hair before walking past Warren, who is still in shock from the encounter. Nathan smiling. Nathan with a child. Nathan smiling at a child and wanting to play. Warren might have a heart attack.

He feels a tug on his wrist and finds Nathan’s index and thumb grabbing him, pulling him back into the house. Once he follows, Nathan lets go.

“So… What was-?”

“Just a kid,” Nathan interrupts as they climb the spiral staircase. Nathan does a small hop once he reaches the top of the stairs, which Warren finds exceedingly entertaining.

“Some of the maids bring their kids when my dad isn’t home,” Nathan explains as he opens the door to his room. Warren feels like he’s invading privacy big time. Not only has he been in Nathan’s dorm room, but now he’s in his actual room. A room that housed the Prescott for years and walls that watched him grow up.

“Most of them are annoying as fuck,” he continues while slipping off his red jacket. He places it delicately on his bed. “Little shits,” he grumbles.

“I didn’t take you for a kid person.”  

“I’m not,” Nathan simply states as he starts unbuttoning his cardigan. “I mean… not really.”

“Not really?”

Nathan sighs as he pulls off his cardigan, leaving him in a plain white long sleeved shirt. “Some are tolerable, I guess. Depends if their moms raised them right.”

Warren startles and averts his eyes as Nathan starts unbuttoning his pants.

“Plus, I like the way they think. Kids are chaotic as fuck.”

Warren hasn’t really thought about that. Kids are crazy and they might as well literally pull ideas out of their ass. It makes Warren inwardly laugh at how fast their minds travel and how nobody but other kids their age can keep up with their train of thought. It reminds him of Nathan and he guesses he understands.

Personally, he doesn’t like kids. He’s not all that mature, he doesn’t think, and he still likes to have fun in silly ways but kids are too hectic. They make a whirlwind of a mess everywhere they go and they’re _loud_. They scream when they don’t get what they want and they cry - _god_ , do they cry. Warren has little to no temper but kids are one of the few things that pisses him off.

Then again, kids are pure at heart and aren’t afraid to do what they want. Maybe that’s why Nathan likes them. They’re creative and can act with freedom.

“-ello? Are you fucking listening, Gayram?”

Warren blinks as his eyes focus on Nathan.  

“Don’t call me that,” Warren demands as he wrinkles his nose in distaste. Nathan stands close enough to him, he can see the light freckles that dot Nathan’s nose and cheekbones.

“Then get the fuck out of my way and let’s go,” Nathan reaches for the door handle behind Warren’s back and yanks at it, giving Warren an annoyed look.

“Hope you don’t like those clothes,” Nathan comments as he hops back down the stairs.

Warren looks down at his bacon shirt and plain jeans. He likes his jeans but the shirt he could take or leave.

“Why?” Warren inquires.

Nathan tosses Warren a smirk over his shoulder.

“Because you’re going to get wet.”

It seems to make sense. A water balloon fight against a child. It may as well be the definition people see when they look up ‘messy’.

Except they’re playing against a child. Considering Nathan beat on him for simply lying, he doesn’t figure a child throwing water at his face could result in anything better.

“You’re not… You’re not gonna like. Kill him, are you?”

Nathan stops and looks at Warren with an offended look.

“What the fuck. I may be an asshole but I’m not a murderer.”

“I was just wondering, dude! They’re pretty small and you’re pretty angry-”

“Fuck you. I’d never hurt Avery.”

Warren’s taken aback by the change in Nathan’s voice. His accusation brought out a high-pitched intensity within Nathan.

Nathan seems to have noticed, too. He turns away and continues walking.

“I wouldn’t,” he repeats, voice confident but unsure.

When Nathan sets foot on the perfectly manicured grass, Avery sets down the last water balloon. The balloons are in a cluster, all impossibly fat with water.

Warren watches as Nathan towers over them, smiling softly to the child before leaning to hold several water balloons in his arms. Nathan stalks back over to him, eyes squinted from the bright midday sun and back arches as he balances an abundance of water balloons.

“Quit fuckin’ spacing out,” Nathan demands as he seems to have randomly teleported next to Warren.

Warren shakes his head as Nathan walks past him. Nathan bends and carefully sets the water balloons down behind a bush.

“Isn’t he going to win anyways?”

Nathan starts sorting the balloons by size, smallest on the left and the ready to pop ones on the right. He shakes his head.

“Nah. We’ve done this a few times. I always let Avery win,” he grins, cat-like, before looking up at Warren. “You’re going to help me win.”

“I’m assuming you want me to use my kickass rewind powers to help you win.”

“I’m glad your nerdiness isn’t just for show.”

“I’m offended.”

“Good.”

From the bush they’re both squatting behind, Avery’s voice can be heard, clear as a bell.

“Ready! Set! Go!”

Warren turns to Nathan and whispers, “He know this isn’t a race, right?”

Nathan grabs at a small water balloon. “Just help me aim, asshole.”

Both sit in suggestive silence.

Warren shifts.

“You have to throw it first.”

Nathan closes his eyes before letting out a small huff of a laugh. “Right, whatever. Don’t look at me like that.”

Avery keeps poking their head out behind their own bush, body leaning halfway before disappearing. When they peak again, Nathan throws.

And misses.

Misses by a lot.

Warren sits in stunned silence before cracking up. Nathan grabs a water balloon and smashes it over Warren’s head, his dark hair instantly matting to his forehead. Warren scoffs through his laughs.

“H-Hey! So d-damn rude,” Warren chortles.

“Don’t laugh at me, asshole,” Nathan hisses, face completely red.

“That shit went _flying_ ,” Warren howls, falling over and instantly crying out from pain and laughter from his assaulted ribs. He curls up on the ground, tears falling from his cheeks.

Nathan smashes another water balloon over his head. “Fuck you, fuck you,” his voice strains desperately. It only makes Warren laugh harder.

Nathan’s new goal is to waste all the balloon on Warren, but Warren grabs onto his wrist before he can drop another balloon on him.

“Okay, okay,” he manages through his giggles. He struggles to sit up and heaves out a great sigh when he does.

“Just fucking rewind, already,” Nathan spits.

Warren grins cheekily. The words ‘ _you’re so cute’_ nearly escape from his lips, dancing on the very edge of his tongue, but he lifts his hand and rewinds before he can.

Nathan sits holding a balloon, face back to its normal colour. His eyebrows furrow before he turns to a giggly, soaking wet Warren. His eyes widen before he frowns.

“Well?”

“Aim to the left. A lot to the left. Right above that patch of purple flowers.”

Nathan repositions and waits for Avery to peek out from behind the bush again. When they do, he hurls the balloon. It catches Avery by the shoulder and water splashes along their side and soaks half their shirt. Avery shrieks in surprise before giggling.

Nathan ducks as Avery throws one back. He’s too late and it smacks him right in the forehead, soaking his hair and face. Warren snorts.

Warren plops a balloon in Nathan’s hand and watches as he chucks it, throwing it just over Avery’s head.

“You’re a terrible aim,” Warren says matter of factly.

“I’m not paying you to criticise me.”

“You’re not paying me anything!”

“Exactly.”

Warren sighs and rewinds, momentarily shocked when he feels a balloon in his hand. He passes it to Nathan again.

“Aim a little lower. You’ll get him right in the forehead.”

“I hear ya,” Nathan muses. As soon as Avery rises to throw their own balloon, Nathan tosses his own. A Half Soaked Avery becomes a Fully Soaked Avery.

“This is so fuckin’ cool,” Warren hears Nathan murmur as he jiggles a water balloon in his hand.

“Only because I’m here,” he boasts. Nathan rolls his eyes before giving him a side look.

“Right,” he says, voice dripping with perpetual sarcasm.

A hot pink water balloon flies in and hits Nathan upside the head. The amount of done-ness on Nathan’s face is enough to make Warren bursts into giggles again.

Nathan grabs a balloon and chucks it at Avery before they can hide again. It hits smack in the middle of their chest, water exploding all over their small form. Nathan tilts his head and lets out a sound of triumphed confidence. Warren grins at him slyly.

The next few tosses don’t miss by that much. Needless to say, Nathan is a very quick learner.

One toss hits Avery right in the stomach, knocking them on their butt. Warren finds it a victory but the thought quickly recedes as Avery starts crying. Crying loudly.

All it does for Warren is grate his nerves but it seems to impact Nathan greatly. He’s frantic and tugging harshly on Warren’s arm. Blue eyes shift rapidly between Warren and the crying child.

“ _Rewindrewindrewindrewind,_ ” Nathan demands in a hushed tone. Warren doesn’t find urgency until Nathan looks at him with bright eyes filled with anxiety induced hysteria.

Warren rewinds instantly, hoping he’ll never have to see a teary-eyed Nathan again.

He grabs at Nathan’s naked wrist before he can toss the balloon.

“Aim a little higher,” comes Warren’s low voice. Nathan’s eyebrows furrow and Warren simply looks away.

Nathan raises his hand again before tossing where Warren instructed. It hits Avery in the chest, knocking them flat on their butt with a loud shriek of laughter. Warren exhales.

Nathan holds his hand out to Warren for another balloon and sends him a dirty look when Warren fails to give him one.

“They’re all gone,” Warren shrugs.

Both men stand and walk over to Avery, who’s still producing small, leftover giggles. Nathan puts his fists on his hips triumphantly.

“Looks like I won,” Nathan says.

“No fair!” Avery wobbles to their feet and points at Warren. “Your boy fwiend was helping yew!”

Warren coughs and shifts uncomfortably, face red in embarrassment. Nathan simply crosses his arms and smiles.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says smugly.

Avery sticks their tongue out before giggling again. They stop as a woman hurries over to them, grabbing Avery’s wrist and whispering urgently to him. Warren tilts his head at her. The woman’s eyes are wide with what looks like fear as she drags little Avery away.

“Nathan.”

Nathan tenses beside Warren instantly. Warren looks at him, slightly worried, before turning his head and glancing over his shoulder.

_Ah_.

Mister Prescott.

Nathan audibly swallows, inhaling shakily. He pivots on his heel, struggling to keep his head held high while strutting over to his father.

Before Nathan can open his mouth, Sean speaks first, tone full of demeaning authority.

“What were you doing?” Prescott asks, mindlessly picking at nonexistent lint on his suit.

Nathan licks his lips slowly, already feeling his unkempt rage churning deep inside him.

“I was entertaining the maid’s kid,” he responds, teeth grinding at Sean looks towards the garden, avoiding his son. _Look at me, you piece of shit._

Sean rubs his thumb and index together, seemingly deep in thought. The silence is suffocating and Nathan feels his confidence draining and his anger rising with each passing second. Something seems to click as Sean whips his head towards Nathan, those same hue eyes cold and calculating.

“You could have killed them.” Sean states.

Nathan swallows, hands shaking. “I wouldn’t-”

“As reckless and irresponsible as you are, you could have killed that child. And who would have to pay for it? I would. People want to sue over anything these days.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to scoff. His eyes widen, incredulous, before squinting. Nathan would kill an innocent child and the worst outcome is that Sean has to face charges against it. Of course.

“I will not face a lawsuit over your careless behaviour. You’ve caused me too many quandaries and it ends now, Nathan. You’re simply impossible to handle.”

Before Nathan can retort, Sean starts again.

“Medication is on the kitchen table. Please take them to avoid one of your… fits. If anybody were to realise how loose of a cannon you actually are, Nathan, you’d lose any remaining friends you have.” Sean looks away from Nathan again, pulling out a cigar from his breast pocket. “And keep quiet about it. Nobody wants to be friends with somebody who needs pills to behave.” Sean lights the cigar and puts it to his lips, inhaling slowly.

Nathan’s fists curl tightly, knuckles white and wrists cramping. His eyes are clamped shut, droplets hanging from his eyelashes. They briefly open and search for the quickest thing to grab - an elegant glass vase with yellow flowers on it. He snatches it and hurls it towards Sean, the vase flying past his head and shattering against the wall behind him.

Shallow pants and sniffles shake Nathan’s fragile body, teeth clenched and holding back words and accusations that fail to come to his mind.

“Y-You’re such…” Nathan lifts his arm, wiping at the snot and tears running down his face. He swallows thickly. “You’re such a piece of _shit_ ,” Nathan huffs. “You don’t care about _anybody_ . You're so - fucking _selfish_.”

Nathan gets more pissed off the more Sean avoids looking at him, puffing cigar smoke.

“ _Look at me!_ ” Nathan shrieks, trembling. Prescott inhales from the cigar, eyes far away like he didn’t hear his son’s demand. His head turns slowly, as if in slow motion, intense eyes settling on the smaller version of him. He exhales smoke, blowing it straight in Nathan’s face.

Nathan instantly coughs, almost pathetically so, waving angrily at the dispersing smoke.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he hisses, eyes watering. “You make me wish I was never born."

Sean lifts his hand and Nathan flinches, cowering at the gesture. He’s swarmed with guilt and apprehension as Sean simply scratches at a spot on his nose. He inhales from the cigar again, blowing smoke as he turns to look out over the garden again.

“Leave my sight. I don’t want to see your face anymore.”

Nathan feels an urge to stay put, stay right there and scream as he rips his hair out. He’ll rip his hair out and show his father his bloody hands and scalp and say ‘ _Living with you feels worse than this_.’

Instead, he huffs, choked from ongoing tears and walks past his father and the broken vase and disappears inside.

Warren folds his arm over himself, gently clasping his other wrist. He knows he watched something incredibly private, witnessed something he shouldn’t. It was so bad, he felt shunned himself.

He trudges towards to porch, and stands in front of Prescott. He contemplates saying something, being bold and badass. He wants to tell Sean how shitty a father, a person, he is. Wants to say something that’ll make Sean think his choices over.

But Warren knows real life doesn’t work that way. Some people don’t change and never will. He moves past Sean, looking dejectedly at the shattered vase, before following Nathan inside.

Warren passes the kitchen on his way to Nathan’s room. There’s no small, orange bottle in sight. He assumes Nathan must have grabbed it despite hating the need for it.

When Warren opens Nathan’s door, Nathan stops pacing and plops down on his bed, grimacing at his wet clothes touching the dry blankets.

They sit in silence, Warren itching to say something. He isn’t good with these type of things. Wait, no, that’s a lie. He’s good at comforting but just not at comforting guys like Nathan. Or guys in general.

Warren opens his mouth, ready to ramble until Nathan is annoyed but distracted.

“I don’t want your pity.” Nathan hastily snaps.

Warren clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I wasn’t going to give you any.”

Nathan nods slightly, fumbling with his shaking hands.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

Nathan’s eyebrows furrow and he gestures towards his bathroom. Warren leaves the room for a minute and comes back with a hefty white box. It’s quite impressive if he says so himself. He wishes he had one so extensive.

Warren situates himself in front of Nathan, setting the box beside him.

“Give me your hand.”

Nathan glances up at Warren before looking down again, recoiling.

“I’m fine.”

“Give me your hand,” Warren repeats.

Nathan curls his hand into himself, shielding it from the brunet.

“I said I’m _fine_ _,_ ” he hisses.

Warren stays quiet and stares at Nathan. In his current state, it only takes Nathan a few seconds to squirm under his gaze. Warren holds out his hand. Nathan rolls his eyes and makes a sound of disgust before dropping his own hand in Warren’s.

Nathan fidgets and winces as Warren takes cotton and peroxide to clean the cuts on his hand. Manhandling thorny bushes and breaking vases has earned him a not so pleasant outcome.

Maybe he’s been spacing out too much but now he’s suddenly much more aware of Warren leaning in. He freezes as Warren’s hot breath tickles his cheeks. Involuntarily, he leans away.

Warren makes a frustrated sound, murmuring something that sounds like _‘don’t’_ before Nathan feels Warren’s fingers on the back of his head, pushing him forward.

Nathan swallows and pulls frantically at his sweat pants. Warren raises his hand and applies a semi-wet cotton ball to his cheek. He winces from the tingle of pain. The coolness of the peroxide combined with Warren’s hot breath sends shivers down his spine that shoots straight to his groin.

Now is not the time to remember how gay you are, he scolds himself.

“Do you like Scooby-Doo?”

Nathan has to blink several times for the question to process.

After ten blinks, it still doesn’t process.

_"What? ”_

“Do you like Scooby-Doo?” Warren asks innocently, pulling out a band-aid and showing it to Nathan. It’s blue with a picture of a cartoon dog on it.

“You carry Scooby-Doo band-aids with you.” Nathan states, staring at the pocket where the band-aid magically spawned.

“Can never be too careful,” Warren smiles, peeling off the plastic tabs on the back of the band-aid. Warren sticks his tongue out as he concentrates on placing the band-aid perfectly on Nathan’s cheek. Once placed, he pulls away to clap, beaming at his work.

Nathan suddenly realises he has a cartoon dog stuck to his face. He sighs.

“Unbelievable.”

Warren grins dorkily at him, turning to clean up the first aid supplies and walking to return them to the bathroom. Nathan watches as he does so, frowning at the rapid beating of his heart and the fluttering in his stomach that never seemed to fade.

 

* * *

 

The car ride was quiet but comfortably so. Both boys were mildly tired after a long, emotionally draining day. Warren had to flick Nathan on the arm to keep him awake during the drive back to Blackwell. He can’t blame him, though. The sun setting and shining through the trees, dousing them in just enough warmth in the cold of the car’s A/C. It was peaceful. And peaceful was welcomed after the atrocity that happened at the Prescott Manor.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, a particularly loud boom of thunder jolted Warren out of his short nap. Warren sniffed, wiping at his nose as black clouds rolled in at incredible speeds. He was fine with it but Nathan had tensed beside him. He didn’t look into it.

When they reach campus, a light rain had started to shower the area. With how the weather was going, Warren really just wanted to take a nap.

Blackwell was quiet. A bit too quiet. After Nathan parked, Warren scoped out the area, to see if anybody would witness the biggest nerd in school hopping out of the biggest douchebag’s truck. However, nobody was even on the main campus. It was completely… Empty?

Warren shrugged it off and found himself walking side by side towards the dorms, not bothered by the shimmer of rain slowly but surely soaking him and his clothes. His hair and shirt were still damp from Nathan hitting him with a water balloon.

As soon as they both round the corner, they stop. Every student on campus was crowded in front of the girl’s dorm, looking solemn or freaked out. The area buzzed with hushed murmurs and Warren felt himself becoming anxious.

"What the fuck is everyone's deal?" Nathan mumbles, shivering from the cold air and wetness.

Warren shrugs, shoulders sagging as he takes further steps towards the cluster of people. He’s too lost by the commotion and, for a second, doesn't see Max walk past him. His arm reaches out and he's startled by the distant look on Max's face. She looks terrified and... remorseful.

“Max”, Warren places his hands on either of Max’s forearms. "What's going on?" He asks softly, eyebrows crinkling in overwhelming concern.

Max’s eyes widen and fresh tears line her lower eyelid, pooling at the corners and sliding down her spotted cheeks.

"You didn't... You didn't see it?"

Nathan comes up from behind Warren, staring passively at the confrontation between the two brunette's. Warren shakes his head and his heart aches as Max grips at the hems of her jacket.

"Oh, _Warren_ _,_ " Max sniffs. "Kate's dead."


End file.
